


Close to Heaven

by Vaders_cape



Category: Supernatural
Genre: And I describe it, Being safe with that warning, Have some archangel snuggles anyway, Lucifer's Cage, M/M, Not really sure if it fits, The Cage, There's torture, This trope has been done over and over, nobody asked for this, you tell me - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 09:03:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7568230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaders_cape/pseuds/Vaders_cape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Relief comes in the arms of those you least expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close to Heaven

Sam always preferred cold to hot. Even living in Palo Alto, he wished for the crisp days of November and snowfalls of a Midwestern winter. And as Hell was, well, Hell, it wasn’t exactly a winter wonderland.

  
    Not that it should be. Ever since he stopped falling _(Months days years to get here)_ it was awful. Fire, brimstone, whips, chains. But that was only the first three hundred years or so. Eventually, they were worn out. Whoever was doing it, be it Lucifer, Michael, or the goddamn Cage itself, it let go of him. For now. Sam knew they would come back, but just not now.

  
    The Cage wasn’t very big. About the size of two motel rooms. Which left enough room for Michael and Lucifer to fight when they weren’t sulking, and for Sam and Adam to keep to the sidelines.

  
    Oh yes, Adam was here. Small and fragile, usually hiding in a corner, but he was there none the less. Sam felt bad for him. Only reason he was stuck here was because his dad was the one and only John Winchester. Any chance Sam got, he usually tried to get to Adam, maybe pull him out of the torture he was enduring. It was Sam’s fault Adam was with him, whatever punishment he received was what Sam deserved. Only issue was every time he tried to get to Adam, he’d be pulled back to the opposite side of the Cage by a chain or meathook or whatever new torture device was used. 

  
    This day _(month year did it really even matter)_ , it came back, with even worse torture than before. Nails on chains bored holes in Sam’s wrists and ankles, making even the smallest movement cause immense pain.  The chain part tied him to the wall of the Cage. Flames started appearing at his ankles. He tried to move away, but was stopped by the pain of the nails. The flames burned up his body, eating through fabric of his clothes and blistering and burning his skin. Sam hadn’t let out any acknowledgement of the pain he was in for (he didn’t know why didn’t he know) a long time, but this time, he howled in pure agony.  

  
    This went on for _(time time where was the time)_ God knows how long. The flames would stop, giving Sam the illusion of relief for what felt like _(losing sense of it losing sense of everything)_ three seconds before his _(he didn’t even have a body souls don’t have skin this was so confusing)_ scorched skin gave every pain receptor he had _(can’t they burn away please can they be burnt away)_ the workout of its lifetime before the cycle repeated and the flames appeared again _(who keeps setting them can they stop please will they stop)_. 

    Over on Adam’s side, it really wasn’t much better. Despite being born and living in Minnesota for most of his life until college, where even then he stayed in a colder climate, he longed for the days of summer when the weather went above sixty degrees. That being said, he was pretty surprised when the Cage was absolutely freezing.

  
    Hell was usually pictured with flames and brimstone, but the way Adam saw it, he saw snowstorms and ice coated walls **{and silence the silence}.** He’d pulled himself into a corner and try to hide from the icy chains that came. Alas, it was to no use. They’d pull him out and start their attack. Icicles sharpened into points like spears trace patterns of blood and wounds into his skin yet he wouldn’t scream. That would be giving satisfaction to Lucifer **{or Michael}** and there was no way in Hell, Heaven, or any other plane of existence that was happening. Or, it wasn’t, until one spike stabbed through to his heart **{can’t keep still stop moving}**. Every beat caused the spike to move, causing unbearable, freezing pain **{cold cold worse than anything}**. And it, well, froze there. The insert wound closed around it, but the spike didn’t. Froze, straight in his heart **{stories one about a ruler of snow with a shard in her heart}**. It was so cold. At least it was numbing the pain from the sharp point **{not much or really at all}**. And numbing from his own screams **{failed again}**. 

  
    Sam was burning up. He wasn’t on fire _(maybe he was too many tricks too many illusions)_ but it certainly felt like it. He was so tired _(silence and sleep)_. He just wanted to rest _(death wouldn’t be a bad option)_. But relief wouldn’t come, and Sam didn’t expect it to. After all, this was Hell. The flames came back again. At this point, Sam was so _(tired done finished)_ used to them, he didn’t even react. As the flames began to crawl up his body, they suddenly ceased. That was new _(not good though definitely not good)_. As was the cold air inching closer. Freezing hands _(hands could they be hands that wasn’t possible)_ ripped the nails _(and the skin that healed around them he could feel the blood)_ from his wrists and ankles. Sam’s chains fell around him, now on my attached to the wall, and so did he. He crawled a foot or so to the corner of the Cage. He tried looking back to see Adam, but felt a hand on his forehead. He diverted his attention to what was above him, but blacked out before he saw anything but eyes that were the most beautiful _(familiar)_ ice blue he’d ever seen.

  
    When Sam regained consciousness, he was curled up in someone’s arms, and leaning against their chest, surrounding by the winds of a cool November day _(Jess used to love parks on those days)_. Sam honestly didn’t want to wake up, and wasn’t planning to, until he felt the heat of encroaching flames _(no no no please no)_. He tensed, squeezing his eyes shut, and clutching onto the shirt of whoever he was leaning against _(keep it alive I don’t wanna let go)_. Instead of feeling the burn of the flames, he only felt the arms around him tighten, and the heat recede _(can’t be too good it’s coming back)_. The one of the stranger’s hands moved up to Sam’s head, brushing his blood matted hair. They started humming a low melody, and soon Sam relaxed again, calmly listening to the stranger’s _(familiar I know this)_ heartbeat.

  
    Adam had given up **{failure failure what would she say}**. The unmelting ice shards had burrowed their way into more places in his body and he couldn’t even twitch without immense pain coursing through his body. He finally just curled up in the corner and patiently waited for his icy end **{didn’t even care where he went just out of here never here}**. But then, he felt warmth he hadn’t felt in years **{months days no clocks no sun no time}**. Something **{warm}** soft and downy brushed his arm, and for once, the ice didn’t move or burn. In fact, it melted. Adam, fighting pain, tried looking up and saw nothing but stunning **{dangerous}** royal blue, before his neck snapped back down. Strong arms gently picked him up, bridal style. Adam wrapped the free one around the neck of whoever this **{angel}** was, pulling himself into their chest, closing his eyes **{not in pain this time thank God}** in relief. 

  
    Next thing Adam was aware of, it wasn’t **{painful}** cold anymore. More like an early summer day. Maybe it was the person he was leaning on, maybe not. He still felt the gentle brushes of whatever it was running down his arms. He opened his eyes, and then saw the ice coming towards him. He flinched, turning to the warm body next to him and clutching onto them. Instead of being frozen again, he felt the feathery thing brush down to the floor. After a minute, Adam opened his eyes and looked down, seeing the ice had retreated. Adam tilted his head up, and banged skulls with Heaven’s Most Terrifying. 

  
    Michael had been glaring across the Cage at Lucifer when Adam’s head slammed into his jaw. He moved his head, giving the young human room.  Adam looked up at him with large frightened eyes. Poor thing was terrified, rightly so. Michael wrapped his arm around him, and started softly singing a lullaby he learned millennia ago. His voice may have been created for battle cries, not music, but it worked. Adam burrowed into the archangel, falling into a soft sleep. Michael smiled, looking at the boy. He wasn’t that bad, not really. He was still just a human, one of Father’s little creations. And yet. Michael had no explanation, but wrapped his wing around Adam’s shivering form. Perhaps he would find out. Perhaps.

  
         Lucifer, on the other hand, was, at the very least, aware of the human concept of attachment. Didn’t mean he had any interest in it. He says, as he holds Sam Winchester after saving him from Michael’s flames. Maybe he went a little far with Michael’s toy, but look at them now. Plenty happy. Lucifer sighed, looking down at Sam’s sleeping form resting in his arms.  He’d wake up and scream, running right back into Michael’s traps despite Lucifer pleading him to stay where he was safer, with him. 

  
Lucifer felt Sam stir from his slumber, loosening his grip. Sam awoke, looking up at Lucifer in a drowsy surprise. “…Lucifer?” Sam asked quietly, his hazel eyes meeting Lucifer’s blue ones. 

  
Lucifer brushed Sam’s hair out of his face. “Hm?”

  
“Did you… save me?” 

  
Lucifer paused, running his fingers through Sam’s hair. “Yes,” was his final reply.

  
“Oh,” Sam said quietly, before adding, “Thank you.”

  
Lucifer nodded, smiling a little. No more words were exchanged between them, though Sam interlaced his left hand with Lucifer’s and laid his head on the archangel’s shoulder. Lucifer, in turn, wrapped his free arm and both wings around Sam. And if he caught Michael’s eye, it was an acceptance of truce.

**Author's Note:**

> Bush did 9/11


End file.
